


i can't wait (to waste time with you)

by xwannaflyx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Courtship, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25120198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwannaflyx/pseuds/xwannaflyx
Summary: Madara's magic sits up and takes notice when Tobirama suddenly Chooses to begin to age. Whichever mortal that he has chosen, Madara is almost positive they are not good enough for him. Nonetheless, he might as well throw his hat in the ring.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 17
Kudos: 560
Collections: Lovely Pieces, MadaTobi Week 2020, Naruto Fantasy Week 2020





	i can't wait (to waste time with you)

**Author's Note:**

> written for MadaTobi week one Magic AU and Naruto Fantasy Week: elemental spirits
> 
> it's a little rushed and I'm not sure how I feel about it but it got written in like a 48 hour period so I'll take it

“Are you aging?” Madara demanded, clearly startled as he stared at Tobirama. In all the years he had known him, including the brief period where the fae had tried to kill him multiple times to dissuade his brother from spending time with him, Tobirama had always looked vaguely like an adolescent. It was strange to see him looking clearly taller and more filled out, closer to a young adult than his previous youthful appearance.

Tobirama’s fair skin betrayed him by turning brilliantly red. “You have a problem with it?” he snapped, form blurring at the edges in his anger and embarrassment. 

Madara frowned, “No,” he said slowly, continuing to stare at his old enemy-turned friend’s little brother-turned his own friend. “No problem,” he said slowly. On the bright side, he supposed that no one would be staring at him strangely for walking around with a child and perhaps some of the more scandalous rumors about him will fade. His frown deepened slightly, “You’ll have to let me meet them,” he finally said turning away from Tobirama’s strange new appearance. 

There was long silence from Tobirama and Madara continued tinkering with his bits of metal, allowing his hands to heat as he considered what to use it for. Perhaps he would make Tobirama a gift to celebrate his eventual bonding; or perhaps it was too early to consider such thoughts when Tobirama had only just begun aging. 

“You know them,” Tobirama finally said quietly. Madara felt his ocean cool sweep a little closer to his back, thrumming against his own heat. “Would you approve?” Tobirama asked. The question sounded reluctant and fairly dragged out of him. 

Turning, Madara scanned Tobirama’s expression. There was vague disappointment in his brows, the way they wrinkled and drew together. His normally arrogant (regardless of whether or not it was deserved) expression was twisted with uncertainty and his edges continued to blur and fade like mist. “Tobirama,” Madara said slowly, trying to find the right words. He had never been good with words. When Tobirama finally raised his chin to meet his gaze, he shrugged all-encompassing. “You would never choose someone unworthy of you,” he finally agreed, ignoring the faint sense of loss echoing in his fires. “I’m sure the person you chose would be one that could never be disapproved of.”

Tobirama’s expression shone like sunshine over the waters and the air felt bright and frosty brisk with joy. 

-x-

“So,” Hashirama said slowly, inching closer and subtle as a particularly large giant bumbling through a toy village. “Have you seen Tobirama recently?” Hashirama asked, his voice squeaking through three different octaves in his excitement. 

Madara looked at his old friend rather dubiously. Hashirama still looked like he used to; a little bit older than Tobirama’s current form but he had complained that he didn’t get respected when he had to act as the leader unless he appeared older. Madara, once again, wondered who was stupid enough to disrespect the fae but be old enough to have become part of the leadership before dismissing the thought. “Yes,” he said slowly, keeping a rather suspicious stare fixed on his old friend. When Hashirama’s hands began flitting toward his tools, he smacked it away physically and with a soft sparking of flame that Hashirama with his wood nature would find uncomfortable. 

“How did he look?” Hashirama asked, abandoning Madara’s tools to stick his face almost in the mortal’s neck. He almost vibrated with energy. He remembered the long hours of Tobirama staring at his appearance on the reflective surface of the lakes, holding one-sided conversations with his various familiars about whether he looked old enough and attractive enough to go courting. (His dragon friend had supplied rather unhelpfully that he was particularly boring looking for a fae and had recommended scales. Mito had put the fear of the Unknown into the unfortunate dragon as Tobirama bit his lip in worry. Goddess Mother, he remembered the way her eyes glowed with power; his wife was so attractive.) 

Stupidly attractive, Madara thought deep in his own thoughts and rather reluctantly. Tobirama had always looked dangerously attractive, danger shining through the glow of his eyes and the icy swamping power of his element. Thankfully (unfortunately) he was also ridiculously out of his league and absurdly stupid a bad idea. “Older,” he grunted, letting his discomfort express itself in a rolling coil of fire racing through his veins before feeding itself into his new project. 

“Just older?” Hashirama grumbled, tempted to draw Madara’s attention with some growth of flowers or trees. But the last time he had attempted to decorate Madara’s forge that way, Madara had burned his entire forge down, trusting that anything he required would be impervious to his flames and been in a terrible mood beside. 

Madara grumbled something in reply and Hashirama scowled down at his old friend. He debated poking his friend further for more information but swiftly drew back when Madara gave him a glare, the hair framing his face slowly losing its shape and edging into flames. 

Hashirama cleared his throat uncomfortably, wondering how Tobirama stood through all of Madara’s moods when he was a water fae compared to his own earth fae. “So what are you making?” he finally asked, shutting away what he wanted to say previously. 

“Nothing,” Madara said, genuinely unsure what he had been working so hard at for the past couple days. The last couple days had passed in a fugue of sleep and channeling heat through whatever his project was but he certainly couldn’t guarantee he knew what the project was. His head tilted to the side. No that wasn’t quite right. He _knew_ what he was making with bone deep certainty but he couldn’t put it into words exactly. 

“Oh my god,” Hashirama hissed, getting a better look at the small metal token laying between Madara’s hands. “Are you courting?” he demanded, unable to help himself. Branches crawled out the ground sluggishly, pushing Hashirama higher so he could stare down at the token that was in Madara’s hands. No one put that much time and dedication and their own essence into a gift unless it was a Token. 

There was a brief wash of heat, burning up Hashirama’s branches and causing him to fall on the ground with an offended yowl. Madara stared down at the still unfinished lump of metal in his hands. Was he courting? He certainly hadn’t realized that the reason he had been dedicating so much time and magic to this had been because he wanted to make a Token. 

“Who are you courting?” Hashirama demanded, nudging Madara with his entire body and almost wiggling in delight. “Since when have you been courting?”

Since Tobirama began aging, whispered his instincts, an automatic hastily suppressed thought in his mind. Well, he hadn’t realized that his brain was going to try to court someone that had just Chosen someone (Goddess knew who but certainly they did not deserve him). 

“Do I know them?” Hashirama asked, trying to peek through Madara’s fingers to see the unfinished tokens. 

Madara scowled and let himself heat to the level that would firmly remind Hashirama that attempting to see an unfinished Token that was not even for him would be indescribably _rude_ in his world. In fact, he was quite certain that was rude among the fae too, for all that their traditions were less about tradition and more about choice. Hashirama recoiled in a huff. He glared down at his old friend’s scarred hands, cupping molten metal without flinching. Since when had he been courting and for Goddess’ sake _who_?

-x-

Tobirama burst into the forge without warning and without permission. Madara, who had been trying to delicately craft his Token into something that would be properly appreciated, let out a long sigh. “Tobirama,” he greeted dryly without turning. He would have to pause before working any further on the token; the air was too infused with ocean cold and damp for him to get the details he truly wanted. 

“You’re _courting_ ?” Tobirama demanded, moving closer and the air thick with pressure. “Since _when_ have you been courting? Do I know them?” 

Madara finally turned after making sure his hands were securely covering his Token. “Hi Tobirama,” he said dryly. Tobirama scowled, his eyes glowing in the dim light of the forge and his edges blurring and misting with frenetic energy. “Nice to see you too.” Thankfully Tobirama didn’t look any older than when they had last met. He would be concerned at the age of who Tobirama had chosen if he needed to continue aging at too high a rate. 

Tobirama scowled deeper. “You never care about manners. Are you working on your manners for the Token recipient?” When Madara continued to stare at him flatly Tobirama shifted, then finally said with great reluctance, “hello Madara. Nice to see you.” Madara cracked a smile at the sulky indignance painted across his face. “Since when have you been courting?” Tobirama demanded, leaning closer.

“Seeing as I’m making the Token right now,” Madara said dryly, “probably pretty recently.” He glanced down at his project and scowled again. There was something not quite right with it. His magic was thick and cloudy; there was something he wasn’t understanding about his project. “Damn,” he mumbled, running his fingers through the air above the Token. It was jangling uncomfortably against his senses. He’d never heard of someone working on their Token for longer than a day or two. Was there something wrong with his Token or himself?

“Madara,” Tobirama grumbled, starting to lean closer before he recoiled back. “What’s wrong with your magic?” he asked, clearly distracted from the previous issue. 

Madara frowned. There was nothing wrong with his magic. He had just dedicated the past week to his magic and trying to have it channeled properly into the nicest most right piece of metal that he could find. “What?” he asked, his mind vague. The air smelled thick with brine and cold. It felt nice against his senses. 

“Are you overheating?” Tobirama asked, letting his own magic wash out of him in an attempt to cool off the air. “I didn’t know a fire mage could overheat?” The thread of worry leaked into his voice and the tips of his fingers brushed against the edges of Madara’s hair, a hesitant touch. 

Too much heat. Of course, he couldn’t make a Token for Tobirama and only base it on his fire. Tobirama was water and the borderline cruel depths of the ocean. He had been needlessly pouring more and more of his magic into the Token and it wasn’t right because it was too shallow. “Tobirama,” he said with great seriousness and a much larger smile growing on his face. “I could kiss you.”

“You could, you know,” Tobirama grumbled. It was far too late; Madara was already sunk deep into his magic, his hair turning into a riot of flames and the very air around him hot and dry. With an annoyed sigh, Tobirama turned and left before his magic got a little evaporated. 

-x-

It was absolutely fucking perfect. If there was another Token that was more perfect, Madara would physically fight them for the claim. He had finally managed to turn the metal into a delicate chain that could be hung around Tobirama’s neck to fall between his collarbones. A dangerously sharp charm which seemed like a wave from certain angles and flames from another dangled from the chain. He had poured lava fire into it, crushed it with the pressure of volcanoes and let it cool in the salt bath that would echo of Tobirama’s own power. Now, all he had to do was actually make eye contact with Tobirama and hand it over. 

After staring at the Token for several long moments, Madara carefully wrapped it in cloth and turned to exit the forge. “It’s been a while.”

Madara let out an entirely embarrassing yelp and almost dropped the Token. “Tobirama.” He stared down at Tobirama’s curled form, completely uncomprehending. “What are you doing?” he asked, confusion lending far more rudeness than he had really intended. 

“I have to check if your recipient is good enough for you,” Tobirama grumbled, clearly sulking. 

Madara briefly wondered if Hashirama had put Tobirama up to this, but on the bright side, this was more convenient. “Come on then,” he grumbled, setting off toward the forest. Tobirama followed silently, his presence an unpleasantly cold damp echoing far too close to his senses. Madara followed the trails of fire he could feel deep within the earth, half listening for the rushing of a river. His senses finally led him to a meadow where he could feel a pool of fire under him but was bordered by a river. He stopped and turned, shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

“Well?” Tobirama demanded, his eyes glowing ember bright with power and scanning the trees. “Where is your Chosen?”

“Here,” Madara mumbled, but his arms remained frozen at his side. 

“Where?”

With another uncomfortable clearing of his throat and a reassuring tug against the pools of fire beneath him, Madara extended the Token to Tobirama. “Here,” he repeated, anxiously searching Tobirama’s strangely older features. 

It was rather strange for a fae to ever really still; for all that the world passed by them in their immortality without them changing, they were always in motion. Nonetheless, Tobirama stood frozen, eyes going from ember red to a gentler warmth. Tobirama’s hands fluttered over the cloth, motions strangely hesitant. When Madara didn’t move away, he carefully took the cloth covered package from Madara’s hands. “For me,” he clarified, trying to meet Madara’s eyes. 

“I know you Chose someone,” he added hastily, trying to explain. 

“Someone?” Tobirama asked, half laughing and rather incredulous. “I am willing to consider the possibility of crow’s feet for _you_ , Madara.” 

Madara blinked, expression blank. “Oh,” he said softly. His expression softened and warmed. “Oh.” Tobirama couldn’t help the smile that took over his face as he carefully cradled the Token close to his heart. “Oh!” 

They beamed at each other, their magic washing over each other, playing against each other’s edges and matching in perfect harmony.


End file.
